


Game, Set, Match

by LadybugsFanfics



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, F/M, Fluff, Ping Pong, Reader-Insert, Table tennis, actor reader, cuteness, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 04:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadybugsFanfics/pseuds/LadybugsFanfics
Summary: @/lady-of-lies requested:Can I request a tom hiddleston x reader? Where they are playing ping pong during a break in filming and when he finally gets the reader to play a a match she ends up winning?
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Reader
Kudos: 14





	Game, Set, Match

“CUT!”

As the director yells, the lights turn back on and you let go of your costar’s hand. He gives you a smile and as you’re told it’s lunch, you smile back and you make your way over to the food table. Nothing there is really food, but anything’s better than starving. 

Tom follows you, chatting beside you. You can’t really follow what he says, mostly just thinking about one of the scenes to come and going over the scene you just did. But you let him chat, his voice a smooth velvet sound that has a wave of warmth and security wash over you. 

It does help with the British accent. _Definitely_. 

“Do you want to try a round of table tennis?” he asks, and you frown up at him. He points to a ping pong table standing free at the back of the set. Two paddles and a ball lay near, ready to be used. 

You smirk. “Ready to win?” 

“You’re supposed to talk yourself up, darlin’.” The nickname has your gut grow warm and tickle, but you ignore it, grab an apple and start your way to the table. Any reply you could come with, you leave silenced. 

Tom’s quickly placed himself at the other end of the table as you reach it. There’s one paddle on each side, but the ball is on Tom’s and when he silently asks if you want to go first, you shake your head and take a bite of the apple. 

To anyone who didn’t know you, you would look like someone who had no idea how to play table tennis. But to someone who knew your past, they would know that high school you used to be on a ping pong team. There were tournaments, both within your school and against other schools. 

Only problem is you have no idea how Tom plays. And you’re certain he has some tricks up his sleeve. 

It starts out fairly easy. Going back and forth a lot, no harder balls, no real play really. However, when you throw the apple core in the trash, Tom ups his game. He smashes a little (you catch them) and he uses more strength to make it faster. 

And the more he tries and the more he fails to get a lead or to out maneuver you, the more frustrated he gets. It’s five - six to Tom, your serve and he looks like he wants to attack the ball. 

“I thought you asked if I was ready to win. This isn’t winning.” 

You shrug. “I might’ve said something like that. Never said you actually would, though?” The paddle hits the ball and it goes over the net. Tom hits it back with no problem. “But then again, you are in the lead.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “By one point. That’s not exactly much.”

“It might be enough.” 

You smash the ball, hitting his end of the table and seeing him miss the shot as he tries to catch it. You smile smugly to yourself when he goes to find it, and widen it when he returns. 

“I don’t believe it will be enough.” He shakes his head and you start back up. 

It’s nine - six to you when Tom looks about ready to give up. Despite the drained color from his face and the obvious seriousness to his expression, he also looks like he’s having fun. He might not be teasing you like he usually does, but it doesn’t seem like he cares about losing. 

You go for another smash, but the ball just misses the table and the point goes to Tom. A smug smile forms on his face, and you shake your head with a smile. He chuckles. “I’m catching up,” he says. 

“You’ll never win.” 

And you’re right. He doesn’t win. He does ask for a rematch. 

Only, instead of getting one there and then, work calls and with smiles and laughter you move to the director. Tom teases you the few meters it takes, and you tease right back, continuously ignoring the ache whenever he looks at you and smiles. 

At least you won the match. At least you have one thing to hold over his head. At least it’s not as bad as it could be.


End file.
